Evan and I have an agreement: Whenever we’re in the same city, we meet up for some mind-blowing sex.

And when we’re not, which is most of the time, we sext each other. Dirty texts, naked photos, explicit videos — we share them from all over the country to help each other get off.

He and I met through mutual friends and started flirting instantly, then ended up going on a few dates when he came to my town on business. But he lives a couple hundred miles away and neither of us is interested in a serious relationship. Since the sex is mind-blowing (did I mention that already?) and we have incredible chemistry, we’ve agreed to keep things casual and continue to enjoy sexting while we’re apart. Our in-person hookups are few and far between, but our tech-based flirtations are super-hot and a lot more frequent.

We’re both busy professionals, so we usually go a few weeks between sext sessions. However, sometimes I get desperate between our “dates” and can’t wait for our schedules to align again. When we can’t virtually hookup, I go back over our old text exchanges and use them as my own personal erotica novel — my private porn stash. And reliving those experiences never fails to get me off.

Evan has a way with words, and when he sends a dirty text, it’s not only sexual, it’s arousing. But even more arousing are the short videos he sends me. He films himself jerking off, and when I watch his videos, I stare at his hand as he strokes his cock. I listen closely to his breathing as he pants and grunts. It shouldn’t be so hot; if anyone else were sending me those videos, I wouldn’t be turned on.  But Evan, somehow, flicks my switch.

The other day, I texted Evan to tell him I thought we needed a “video date night” again soon, but he told me he’d be out of town and staying with friends for a bit, so he wouldn’t be able to get the kind of privacy our video calls require. I thought I could get through the few days until he got home without incident, but no matter how much I tried to quell my arousal, nothing worked. I needed the kind of release only Evan could give me.

I took out my favorite vibrator — a toy designed for G-spot stimulation but that I always just press against my clit — and cued up my favorite conversation with Evan. As I read the text, I felt like I was right back in the moment again, seeing his words for the first time. I felt my face flush as I read a line he’d written about how he couldn’t wait to watch my pussy sink down onto his dick, and my cheeks burned when I read my response, telling him that “I can’t wait to feel your cock filling me all the way up.”

My vibrator was turned on to its lowest setting, but when I reached the part of the conversation where Evan discussed wanting to lick my clit, I turned the knob up a few notches until I could hear the toy’s motor buzzing even over my very loud moans.

I slowly read Evan’s texts that waxed poetic about my pussy. He told me how much he wanted to bury his face between my legs and feel my silky-smooth thighs pressing against his cheeks. Even though this exchange wasn’t new to me, that fact didn’t affect the way my body reacted, and I felt a rush of heat course through my body as my pussy flooded. I can’t watch porn movies more than once or read a dirty book a second time, but Evan’s sexts always work — every time.

I kept scrolling through the conversation, and the more I read, the more aroused I became. There was Evan’s line about wanting to feel me taking his cock as he cupped my ass in his hands, and there was another about how he wanted to fuck me roughly from behind so he could grope my big tits while he screwed me.

Even my responses stoked my passion. I reread my comments about wanting to deep-throat his cock and have him fuck my mouth, and my own words made my pussy ache. And my texts about wanting him to pull my hair, to fist his hands in my long blonde locks, and tug on it until I started moaning, got me positively worked up.

Finally, I re-watched the first video from that particular exchange. It was a short clip of him coming in his shorts because he was so turned on by our conversation that he couldn’t undress fast enough. Watching that got me even more hot and bothered; I cranked up my vibe to a higher setting, craving more stimulation.

There were a few more lines from each of us before the second video, and I pressed the vibrator hard against my clit as I opened the next clip. I knew what happened in the video already — I’d watched it plenty of times before — but I still felt a wave of ecstasy as the action started.

Evan’s unflagging cock came into view, and his hand was wrapped around his shaft. He started stroking himself up and down, slowly at first, then super-fast, and then slowly again. He alternated his pace for about 40 seconds, and as the video played, the vibrator worked its magic on my clit.

I started writhing in my bed, my hips bucking and my ass wiggling. I wanted to touch myself with my other hand, to thrust a finger inside my pussy or pull on a nipple, but I couldn’t if I wanted to keep the phone in front of my face. I didn’t really need the visual assistance anymore — I was only moments away from an explosive climax — but I didn’t want to stop watching. So I held the phone in front of my eyes as Evan jerked off for my pleasure.

It was only a few more seconds, no more than 10, before he came. His hand stopped pumping, and I watched as a jet of come shot out of his cock, flew several inches up in the air, and then splashed down onto his stomach. He resumed jerking himself after that first volley, and he teased out three more spurts of semen. As the screen faded to black, I turned my vibrator to full speed.

“I could hear the toy’s motor buzzing even over my very loud moans.”

I came a few seconds after my phone’s autolock kicked in, and when I felt my orgasm rush through me, I immediately dropped my vibrator and lay there panting.

I was still lying in my bed when my phone, now discarded next to me, buzzed against my ribs. I was exhausted from my intense orgasm, but I lazily reached over to pick it up and see who’d texted me. Evan’s name was splashed across the screen, and when I slid my finger to the right to unlock my phone, his text opened up: “Have a sudden night alone at my friend’s place if you still want to chat,” his message read.

He’d found time for our date night, after all. Almost automatically, I felt my arousal kick up again. I wasn’t going to turn Evan down. Like I said, I can never get enough of him.

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